


rain showers, lost flowers

by moonsprite



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Guns, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mafia AU, Other, Reincarnation, Soulmates, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 10:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 20,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24968122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonsprite/pseuds/moonsprite
Summary: While soulmates are known to share linked color-changing marks, having identical ones was essentially an urban legend and you had never given the idea much thought.Neither of you put much stock into soulmates; after all it sounds too easy, too perfect. And both of you know very well that life isn't like that at all.
Relationships: Sugawara Koushi/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 38





	1. prologue

You used to love the rain, the way it pooled into reflective puddles on the street, the soft pattering of drops on the roof like a lullaby, the plants outside drinking their fill.

And yet here you were kneeling on the ground, tears mixing with snot, your clothes soaked through and your umbrella abandoned by your side. All you could think was how much you hated the rain, because he always disappeared with it.


	2. dreamers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As you marvel at the way his bright eyes sparkle in the sunlight, you feel like you have just begun to live your life.

“Hey, come on! You’re going to get lost in the crowd!”

Looking around, you quickly grab your childhood friend’s extended arm as she whisks you away towards the marketplace where the festival is to be held.

The hot sunlight beats down on your face, the leather-banded sandals your husband had given you putting up a valiant but losing fight against the dust and sand that insisted on gathering between your toes. It isn’t the first time you’ve been to a public festival, of course – as a child, you were often helping your parents sell small items and trinkets in the marketplace, and you used to marvel at all the people and colors that would rush by at the start of a festival.

But this time is different. Now you are married, with a husband much older than you. Thankfully you have not tried for children yet as you are still only fourteen, only a year elapsed since the day your parents married you off for money. He is often away for business or leisure, and you spend most of your days weaving at the loom or visiting the homes of your childhood friends. Today is another busy day for him doing negotiations with other merchants who had arrived with the news of the festival, and he easily allowed you to go and attend the celebrations with your friends.

As you soak in the vibrant sights and sounds, one in particular catches your attention. You come to a standstill, and your friend turns around to see what was holding you up.

Over the sounds of the bustling crowd soars the melodic harmonies of a lyre and a sweet voice that sends a shiver down your spine. Without a second thought, you surge forward, dodging elbows and knees until you are at the front of the semicircle that has formed around a young man. 

He is at the age when one seems to be at once a boy or a man, depending on how you look at him. And yet he sings of sunshine and twilight, the pull of the ocean and the deep dreams into which sleepers venture and never emerge. You listen, enrapt in the story he spins as his voice resonates in your heart. Suddenly your eyes lock with his, and without thinking, your hand moves to rub at your collarbone. His eyes widen, but he continues to sing, occasionally sneaking glances at you.

Before long, your friend catches up with you and tugs at your sleeve. Reminding you that your husband wasn’t going to be happy if you stayed outside too long, she brings you to your senses. You reluctantly hurry back home, wondering if you would ever see that boy with the chestnut hair again.

A few days later, you are walking over to your friend’s house, idly swinging your arms back and forth as you hum the boy’s song that seems to inhabit your brain. 

Suddenly hearing someone harmonize with your absentminded singing, you startle and turn around to see the boy from the festival standing in the shadow of a nearby doorway. Motioning for you to be quiet, he slips off into a nearby street, and after a quick check that no one was watching, you follow suit.

You learn that his name is Agapetos, and mentally savor the way it seems to roll off your tongue just right. His laugh makes you laugh, and your conversation flows like wine at a banquet. The two of you promise to meet here once a week, and as you marvel at the way his bright eyes sparkle in the sunlight, you feel like you have just begun to live your life.

One afternoon turns into another, and you soon become adept at sneaking out of your home, disguised in the clothes of one of your male servants that you stole one night after dinner. You supply your husband with various excuses, claiming that you have to visit your friends to borrow some wool or visit your family. Naturally, you take advantage of the times when your husband is away and occupied with his young male protégé.

With Agapetos, you discover a whole new world you never knew as a young girl. You visit the market and play with the stray animals roaming the streets. In the afternoons, you chat with old men about philosophy and the running bets on local athletes, provide commentary on ant races held on the table next to the wine-seller, and enjoy snacks while listening to street performers. He picks flowers by the roadside to tuck behind your ears, and you steal kisses in the shadows and hold hands when no one is looking. Each moment to yourselves feels like a world of its own, preserved in time like amber.

Alas, young love does not last long. Your husband grows suspicious when your weaving slows and you seem distracted and restless during meals. He has you followed when you go out one afternoon, and discovers you meeting up with Agapetos. 

The next evening, your husband does not come back for dinner. When you return to your room after eating, you find a familiar tunic on the ground, now bloody and tattered. In the dim light of your candle, you fall to your knees and weep until your body refuses to move, your husband’s silent warning almost loud enough to drown out the sound of the rain pounding on the roof. 

Even without the tunic, you know your love is no longer of this world because of the way your heart aches like an open wound deep in your chest. Clutching the tattered tunic, you begin to fear for your own life as well.

Your husband does not let you go outside anymore, and you spend your days monitored by servants as you weave blanket after blanket, willing yourself to forget but the backs of your hands are always wet by the end of each day. After a month of being a prisoner, you make a desperate decision.

A servant finds your body the next morning, still and cold, your fingers stained dark red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross-posted to tumblr @sosugasweet


	3. lost and found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When one door closes, another one opens.

Tonight is another full house and you are at your best, warm golden lights gilding the curves of your dress as your dulcet tones intertwine with that of the piano. The clink of glasses, murmuring of patrons, and the stomping of feet when the beat rises all blend into a familiar background as you close your eyes. 

No matter what anyone said, you always felt the most alive here, singing your heart out in The Studio. An ironic name, considering the place was more well known as a speakeasy. Regardless, this was the place that saved you from certain poverty and a more terrible fate.

As the song descends into its closing notes, you finish with a flourish and offer the audience a slight curtsy to applause. You take a brief break to drink some water, and the brass band takes over, starting a lively tune that has half the seated patrons up out of their seats within the minute.

Dabbing at your forehead with a handkerchief, you gaze out at the crowd. Seems like business is thriving and as usual, Sui is nowhere to be seen. He is an important figure and you know it wouldn’t do to just have him out and about. Still, you can’t help but long for the early days, when he would take a seat at the bar counter and just listen to you, finger tapping out a subtle rhythm.

You still remember the first time you met the dark-haired man. It was a chilly autumn evening, and the streetlamps were starting to flicker on around you. You had just been thrown out of your small apartment, the landlady saying she could not wait any longer for you to pay your accumulating rent after the restaurant you used to work at closed down. Resigned, you did your best to make use of the only thing you had left - your voice.

Wrapped in your only coat and scarf, you left your hat upside-down on the pavement as you stood beneath a corner streetlamp. Clasping your hands within your sleeves for warmth, you sang the song that filled your dreams with the rise and fall of the tide, the dance of stars in the night sky and the deep, dark lullabies that entranced the unwary sleeper.

Although you had half expected it, the way everyone passed you by without a second glance still hurt. Your hat had a few coins from some passerby who offered you a look of pity, but it was nowhere enough to get you a room for the night.

Just as you were about to give up hope, you noticed a man standing just outside the circle of lamplight across the street. Despite the shadow cast over his face, you could tell from his attire that he was a man of decent means.

As you bent down to collect your hat, you barely heard a clack against the pavement when a pair of men’s shoes entered your field of view. When you straightened up, you met the gaze of the man from earlier.

“Your voice is beautiful.” With a small smile, he tipped his hat and offered you a little bow.

You curtsied in kind, wondering why he had chosen to speak to you, a clearly poor and now homeless young woman. “That’s kind of you to say, sir.”

He chuckled at that. “I wonder, do I look old enough to be called sir already?”

“I didn’t mean to offend -”

The man laughed and waved off your apology.

“Don’t worry about it, I was just joking. Rather, I think I will have to get used to being called sir from now on.”

Something about him was so mysterious and yet intriguing. He seemed at once young and old, his easygoing smile blunted with the hard-boiled edge that everyone had nowadays. It had been less of a surprise than you expected when you finally learned who he was.

“Are you looking for employment, by any chance?”

“... Why do you ask?”

The man reached into his suit jacket, and you unconsciously stiffened before seeing the small rectangular card in his hand.

“Where are my manners, I forgot to introduce myself. Sui Martel, pleasure to meet you, …?”

You accepted the card as you cautiously told him your name. Just as he had said, his name was printed on the white cardstock. A businessman, it seemed. Not unusual in these times.

“Would you like to work in our cafe? We’re in need of a new employee, and I think you’d fit the bill just right.”

You had interacted with a variety of people while working in a restaurant and had developed what you’d like to think was a decent eye for people. And Sui Martel didn’t seem like a bad man.

“When can I start?”

He smiled, and gestured down the street.

“How about tonight?”

True to his word, Sui had led you to a medium-sized cafe. It was surprisingly quiet, with only one or two patrons in sight. But as you moved to put down your things, he gently grasped your wrist.

“Don’t worry about working tonight, I couldn’t do that to you. Come, let’s get you warmed up.”

Following a brief conversation upstairs, you came to the agreement that you would work during the day and receive pay in room and board. With that, you began your employment under Sui Martel at Cafe Sunset.

After about a month or so of serving tables, you were invited out to dinner one night with a card slipped under your door.

Pulling together your best look, you met Sui downstairs in the cafe. But instead of heading to the front door, he walked into the kitchen and gestured for you to follow. A few murmurs, a flurry of movement, and suddenly a flight of stairs appeared before you, leading into the dimly lit unknown.

“Follow me.”

As you slowly descended the staircase, one hand gripping Sui’s arm for balance, your eyes slowly adjusted to the dim surroundings. You were barely able to make out the shape of a table when Sui leaned over and whispered in your ear.

“You might want to close your eyes for a moment.”

Just as you squeezed your eyes shut, a flash of light illuminated the insides of your eyelids. 

Thankful for the warning, you squinted as you tried to quickly recover your vision.

As your eyes gradually opened, your mouth dropped open involuntarily at the sight before you. Glossy dark wood, cabinets of bottles and glasses, an actual grand piano, a roomful of tables, and even a dance floor. You glanced at Sui in shock, only to be met by a wide grin as he gestured to the space you had no idea even existed for an entire month.

“Welcome to The Studio.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I wrote Sui but he kind of has my heart now.


	4. enigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wondered how much you actually knew about this man.

As it turned out, Sui Martel was no ordinary businessman or cafe owner. Rather, he was part of a local mafia group and had been put in charge of this place, The Studio. By day, the building operated as Cafe Sunset and sold various pastries and candies, but at night, the basement was home to a speakeasy.

You had passed the one month probation period, so now you were being offered a chance to work in the speakeasy - for higher pay, of course. And you would be working as a singer, not a waitress. Eyes sparkling, you told Sui yes as soon as he said the words. Despite the potential dangers working in an illicit environment for the mafia, you knew that this was an opportunity that you couldn’t afford to pass up. This was your chance.

From then on, you spent your nights working and your days sleeping or chatting with the other “staff” who worked there, both above and underground. The small group was close-knit and clearly had strong ties to each other, especially Sui. From the pastry chef Tiller to the information specialist Simon, everyone was welcoming and always had some piece of wisdom to impart. You discovered that you were a surprisingly quick study with ropes - you had never seen Rafter so shocked - but you were hopeless at bread-making.

Sui, on the other hand, was clearly well-liked and respected by the group, but you noticed that he kept a subtle distance between himself and others. He was generally open and friendly, but never talked about his personal life. 

After another night of seeing Sui deftly dodge another female customer’s not-so-subtle advances at the bar, you mustered up the courage to ask the pianist Rodger why Sui avoided women so much.

“Sui? He’s always been like that… never really interested in the women, no matter how beautiful.”

As the group had grown in size and influence, The Studio filled and the sight of him among the customers became harder to come by. You continued to sing, night after night, smoothing out the folds in your borrowed dress, trying to ignore the questions that continued to swirl in your mind.

What wasn’t Sui telling you? Just how bad was the situation with the other mafia groups? And when had your soulmark turned olive green?


	5. peaches and cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some dreams are too good to last.

Seeing the sun high in the cloudless blue sky, you decide today is a perfect day to do the laundry. With a quick word to your mother, you gather the clothes in the washbasin and carry them to the nearby river, a light spring breeze tickling your cheeks.

As you set about washing the pile of clothing and sheets, you begin to sing, the birds and flowers your only audience in the forest. But your reverie is interrupted when you hear some bushes behind you rustling loudly.

Nervous, you turn to see a fair-haired boy pop out of the bushes. When you don’t move, he approaches you, blood thrumming through his veins in excitement. As soon as he heard your voice singing in the woods, something inside him clicked and he knew. 

You blush, cheeks stained pink like the peaches in his garden, and he feels his heart jump into his throat. He tells you that your voice puts the songbirds to shame, and you ask why the son of the lord of these lands is wandering the woods. You laugh when his mouth opens in shock, and you admit no one in these parts doesn’t know who he is.

He grows curious at your soapy task, and you enlighten him with your methods. Curious, he rolls up his sleeves and does his best to scrub away at the linen, albeit clumsily. You fail to stifle a chuckle, and he looks back at you indignantly before flicking some loose soap bubbles at you. The two of you shriek with laughter as it devolves into a bubble fight, and eventually have to dunk your own clothes in the water to rinse them clean.

At first you look away when he takes off his shirt, but become transfixed when a stolen glance reveals a familiar spot on his chest. He flushes strawberry red when he notices you staring, but you jump up and exclaim that you have a spot in the same place but in a different color. When you tug at the collar of your dress, he seems to be tongue-tied for a few moments before telling you that your mark is exactly the same. You look down and feel your stomach do flips when you see that the black dot under your collarbone has turned olive green, a match with his. Neither of you are really sure what this means, but you get the feeling that it would not be good for anyone else to find out quite yet.

Both of you decide to color in your marks; you use blueberry dye and he uses black ink. Before you know it, you begin to look forward to waking up in the mornings that you can tell your mother that you will go out to do the chores. He sneaks out of the manor to meet you, using excuses of going hunting, studying the local flora and fauna, or visiting his friends. Every time you manage to meet in the woods, you feel a thrill at the sight of his smile.

Time seems to fly by when the two of you are together, and you quietly store each precious memory away in your heart. You giggle when he shows up one day dressed in a jaunty cap with a satchel slung over his shoulder like an explorer. Cheeks flushed peach pink, he looks at you indignantly and claims he heard that the flowers that grow in the woods are more fair than those in his garden, so he came to take a look for himself. You hide your face in your hands, and he nearly squawks in mutual embarrassment before sitting down and helping you wash the day’s laundry.

Some days you just spend lazily watching the clouds, and he regales you with stories of adventure and courage that he read in his library at home. You paint pictures in his mind’s eye of the purple-pink sunset and the way it dyes the fields golden when you walk home, the birds leaving their perch on your roof to return to their own homes at day’s end. He tells you about his childhood, about his favorite dog and the way he got scolded one day after going swimming in the sea by the coast. You whisper that you used to think there was actually a man in the moon, and poke him when he laughs outright at your admission.

Other days, you go fruit picking and teach him about what plants are safe to eat. You toss blueberries into each other’s mouths, and sit on a grassy hill as you look over what you managed to collect and not eat. When you aren’t looking, he pulls at a few blades of grass and tickles your bare feet. You fall over laughing and flail your arms in a futile attempt to stop him. When your fingers touch, you bite your lip at the warm feeling of his hand around yours. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you lean forward to kiss his berry-stained lips.

These days of peace and solitude become increasingly rare as you get older. He has to stay in the manor more often to study and prepare to take over the fief. Your mother wants you to marry quickly so she doesn’t have to worry about your livelihood, especially because your father passed away when you were young.

Two months pass since your last meeting, and one day your mother tells you that she has found someone for you to marry. Desperate, you plead with her to at least wait until the lord’s son is married as a sign of good manners since he is a few years older than you. Always concerned with propriety, your mother reluctantly agrees but tells you to at least meet the boy she found.

Then the announcement comes that the lord’s son is going to be married, the news spreading like wildfire across the fief. You don’t know what to do, but you have to see him again. He must have had the same thought, because that night the two of you find each other in the woods, where you always met. 

Young and naïve as you are, the two of you think about running away together. But as soon as you leave the cover of the forest, you realize that you are surrounded. Despite your tears and his pained protests, the two of you are escorted back to the manor, and he is forced to watch you thrown into the cellar.

The lord of the manor stands in the doorway, his stern face cast in shadow in the dimly lit storage room. He glares at you, incensed, and you silently quake at the look in his eyes.

“So you are the witch who seduced my son. Do not think you will ever see him again.”

With that declaration, the lord turns around and motions for the men to close the door. Your last glimpse of your love is of him on his knees, tears rolling down his cheeks as he cries out that he will come back for you.

Of course, life has other ideas. Two days later, you hear the wedding banquet above, the thumping of dancing shoes and clinking of filled glasses ringing like mocking laughter in your ears. You don’t blame him for what has clearly happened, but all the same you feel your chest constrict painfully at the thought of knowing that you will never love someone the way you loved him.

The next day brings a rain shower, your wet hair stuck damply to your cheeks as you are hustled along in a wheelbarrow, a coarse bag thrown over your head and your hands tied behind your back. When the barrow comes to a stop, you barely manage to take a breath before you are unceremoniously tossed into a body of water, the bag quickly growing heavy as you struggle to free yourself from your restraints.

That night, a pang in his chest makes the heir of the manor rub mindlessly at his mark. His finger comes away ink-black, but the mark does not change color no matter how hard he tries to wash it. Tears come unbidden as he stares at the small circle in his mirror and wonders how it all went so wrong.

Two days later, he rides away from the manor in the misty pre-dawn fog and unbeknownst to him, follows you into the blue-grey sea by the coast.


	6. fractured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> do you believe in fate?

“I don’t care what my mark says. It doesn’t dictate my life. I want to be with you, the person in front of me.”

Teary-eyed, you dove into his waiting arms. Finally, you had managed to find the one you could grow old with, someone who loved you for who you were. Glenn had been there for you when you got your first job, your first paycheck, your first time living by yourself. Being with him felt like being at home, and you couldn’t imagine life without him.

So when you saw him chatting for a while with a new customer in the restaurant, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe she was having some “concerns” about her order. Glenn did look striking in his work uniform, you mused.

But two days later, he told you over dinner that his soulmark had changed.

“... Did theirs change color too?”

You knew it was almost pointless to ask, considering the statistics on mismatched soulmates. Nearly every soulmark matched colors with its fated partner upon proper encounter. And yet when he answered affirmatively, your stomach lurched like you had been punched in the gut.

It was almost unfair, the way he looked at you as if there was nothing he could do about it. The small diamond on his wrist, now muted blue, stared back at you like a brand. 

When he asked if he could meet up with them, you let him go. How could you deny him the chance of meeting someone who was supposed to be his soulmate, a once in a lifetime opportunity? He claimed that he hated the idea of being tossed around by fate in the first place, but you couldn’t blame him for being curious.

He returned to work the day after with a cryptic look on his face, but when you pushed him, the only thing he would say was that he wouldn’t just drop you for someone he barely knew. You tried to take comfort in his words, knowing he wasn’t one to just lie.

And yet as the days passed, Glenn seemed more and more distracted. He would space out and give the wrong tables the wrong orders, or make the cups overflow when pouring coffee. You wanted to give him some space to think, but after he somehow managed to hit his head on the glassware cabinet and cut the side of his finger with a sharp fork in the space of twenty minutes, you had to take matters into your own hands.

“Glenn, you can’t go on like this. She’s still on your mind, right?”

He looked down at his clasped, freshly bandaged hands in his lap, not meeting your eyes. As much as it hurt to know that he was drifting away from you, it hurt more to see him getting injured because of it.

“... I’m sorry.”

As you packed up the break room’s first-aid kit, the two of you sank into heavy silence for a long moment, neither able to utter a single word.

“Glenn, your break’s over!”

The chair legs slowly screeched across the floor as he silently stood and left at the manager’s call. Muscles suddenly loosening, you slumped limply over the table like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

What could you have possibly said to make him change his mind? Could you have done anything to convince him to stay? Were your seven years of knowing each other and three years in a romantic relationship that easy to throw away? What gave something so abstract as soulmates the right to just interrupt your lives like that?

You would never know the answers to those questions, but as time passed and you spent fewer nights crying yourself to sleep, you found ways to cope with the situation.

Working at the same restaurant made avoiding him difficult, but you did your best to schedule work for days when he wouldn’t be on shift. You began covering your mark with high collared shirts or a makeshift bandage, not wanting to see it every time you passed by a reflective surface.

Two months later, the restaurant shut down, and with it, your last connection to Glenn. Despite your best efforts, no one in the vicinity wanted to hire someone new, and you remained in your small one room home trying to save and make ends meet. 

This lasted for about a month, but you had been living from paycheck to paycheck and your landlady had no more patience for your extended rent payments.

“If you can’t pay up, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. We don’t have enough money to cover our own bills.”

You never would have guessed becoming homeless would be one of the best things to happen to you as you stood on that street corner, the crisp evening breeze whisking through your skirts. And yet merely a month later, you were cozy and tucked into an armchair, fireplace quietly crackling as your new family surrounded you.

Life played its cards in unexpected ways, it seemed. But none were quite as shocking as the night you saw Sui’s cheeks glistening in the moonlight.


	7. perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how many meetings are fated?

The room is full of people, but all you can think about is how it doesn’t smell like turpentine and sunlight. You’ve been invited to show some of your artwork along with the other new artists in your guild, and while you don’t mind explaining your work, you get overly nervous watching people react to it. Receiving feedback in person still isn’t your greatest suit, but you’re trying to work on it.

Fortunately you manage to find a patron that day, a beautifully dressed lady who admits she loves your depictions of nature. The dark green foliage and fruit trees remind her of a secret garden, she tells you. Before she leaves, the lady commissions a series of works, and you immediately set about starting on your next piece.

A female patron at the art showing across the street does not feel nearly as lucky, and leaves with a frustrated expression. She commissioned a piece from an artist in the gallery, but she is still looking for something more, a nagging feeling in her chest. So she continues to go to showing after showing, hoping to find someone who will paint the world the way she dreams it.

One day several years later it rains relentlessly, a storm that paints all her windows into a blurry canvas of blues and grays, and she wonders why her heart aches so much when she gazes out at the clouds that seem to weep as if in mourning. She turns to her comforts of warm tea and a book, but her chest continues to ache throughout the night. Her fingers linger on her mark, still as dark as it was the day she was born.

Many years later, she comes across a particular set of paintings in the home of a relative of a friend. The blue-white roll of the ocean tide and the richness of the lemon-green leaves and the berries spilled across the grass pull her in, and she cannot hold herself back from inquiring into the artist. She learns that you passed away two years ago, and this set of paintings was the work you seemed the most emotionally attached to.

Looking more closely, she notices the figure of a young boy half-hidden among the trees, his dark brown hair almost blending in with his surroundings. When she asks about it, the owner shrugs and notes that you never gave a full explanation of your inspiration for the paintings except that it all came to you in “half-awake dreams.” The only other clue is the title of these works, engraved in a copper plate above the frames: _dietrologia._


	8. downpour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for a moment, you hesitate.

“The rain’s really coming down hard, isn’t it?”

You turn from your seat by the window to address Sui, who sits down across from you with two cups cradled in his hands. He offers you one, and you accept gratefully. Ever since you asked him what kind of tea he had given you that first night, Sui had made sure to keep the tea well-stocked.

When the two of you happened to have some overlapping free time, one of you would put on the kettle and you would sit together in the side anteroom and talk about anything at all. Despite only knowing Sui for about a month, you cherished these quiet moments. Spending time with him always had an oddly calming effect on you.

“I don’t mind it though, I like falling asleep to the sound of rain. What about you?”

Sui takes a long sip before quietly setting his cup down on the table, eyes focused on the rippling liquid.

“The rain… it brings unfortunate memories to mind.”

You glance with a frown at the rain pounding at the nearby windowpane. When you stand and resolutely pull the curtains shut, you hear a soft chuckle.

Startled, you look back and meet Sui’s soft gaze. As if momentarily spellbound, you freeze and watch his lips curve into a smile.

“Thank you.”

He gestures for you to sit, and you return to your cup of tea, still warm to the touch.

“Rafter told me you were unusually good at tying the knots while moving shipments.”

You try not to blush, still slightly embarrassed as you recall the rugged man’s loud surprise when you tied a round turn and two half-hitches successfully on your first attempt.

“It was nothing, I’m decent at doing handicrafts so I suppose that helped.”

“Handicrafts?”

Sui’s eyes sparkle with curiosity, and you barely stifle a smile at how young it makes him appear.

“It’s not much, but I sew my own handkerchiefs out of scrap fabric.”

You pull out the handkerchief in your pocket, thankfully clean, for him to look at. He unfurls it and spreads the fabric out on the table, smoothing down the edges. It isn’t your best work, but the embroidery is decent enough in your eyes.

“Peaches?”

Sui gently traces the needlework in the bottom corner with his fingers, seemingly intrigued.

“I-It’s because they used to come out in my dreams a lot. I would dream of lying in the grass, eating peaches and gazing at the clouds passing by, and I always woke up feeling kind of happy.”

He hums at your admission, and you feel yourself flush in embarrassment. What had suddenly driven you to divulge your childhood dreams? And to Sui, no less!

“Sorry, forget I said that. It’s pretty childish, huh?”

Sui runs a finger across the hemmed edge of the fabric before glancing back up at you, a faraway look in his eyes that softens as he smiles.

“No, it sounds lovely.”

He folds the fabric and returns it to you, but all you can think of is how his smile never seems to reach the subtle sorrow in his gaze.

Once you notice it, you start seeing it everywhere - the way he leans on the kitchen door frame when he talks to Tiller about a new shipment, the set of his shoulders when he heads into his office, the bags beneath his eyes that speak volumes to his increasingly busy days.

One night after finishing your shift downstairs, you head to the library for a book to read that will hopefully send you right to sleep. But as you approach the door, you notice that it is slightly ajar. Wondering who would be combing the bookshelves at this time of night, you quietly peek inside.

A familiar head of hair enters your vision. You push the door a little more to discover Sui in the window seat, looking more solemn than usual. Curtains drawn back, the waning moon casts his face in forlorn shadow as he stares out the window. For a moment, you hesitate. It could just be a trick of the moonlight - but his cheeks seem to shine wetly in the partial darkness.

As soon as the thought registers, you pull away from the door and hurry to your room, finally letting out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. It feels like you saw something you weren’t supposed to see, but the image burns itself onto the back of your eyelids, your mind continuing to race until sleep finally claims you.

The next morning, you slip into the library and peek out the window but see nothing besides the usual skyline and ocean in the distance. You had almost forgotten this was a port city. Maybe he really did have a fear of water, or something bad happened to him involving the ocean.

You move to draw the curtains close when your eyes land on a book left in the alcove. Leaning down to pick it up, you wonder why Sui had been reading about soulmates.

A sudden flash of images runs through your mind, and the half-open book falls on the floor. You grip a nearby shelf, trying to regain your composure. Combined with what Rodger had said before, you wouldn’t be surprised if the topic of soulmates brought Sui anguish.

But for you? You couldn’t count on your fingers and toes the number of times you’ve thought about looking at your mark again. And every time you back out at the last moment, too afraid to see it unchanged, too afraid to see it changed.

Maybe that was why you got along with Sui so well. Sometimes talking with him felt like talking with an old confidant, someone who understands that there are some things that cannot easily be said, someone who knows that currents run deep but given time, may come to light.

Wasn’t someone who understood you preferable to someone the universe just told you to get along with?


	9. too little, too late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm sorry."

The deck sways under your feet, but by now you easily find your balance, the rhythm of the seas no longer reducing your stomach into a surging mess. As the ship flying navy colors grows closer, the crew piles out from the hold. With a quick look, you nod at the captain and head into the captain’s cabin, locking the door behind you as one of the few crew members to stay out of the fighting. You would have helped, but you knew all too well at this point the importance of staying safe and hidden but also able to escape at a moment’s notice. After all, how could any pirate crew recover quickly without a medic?

You feel the thud as the navy’s ship hits at starboard, and the rumble of feet, clashing of swords, and smell of gunpowder sends a shiver of worry down your spine, no matter how many times you hear these skirmishes. Probably against the captain’s preferences, you stay near the door of the cabin. Suddenly you feel something large slam against the door. Careful to stay quiet in the darkness of the cabin, you peek out the door’s window and see a naval uniform and a crumpled body. You don’t see anyone else on the deck.

Telling yourself you could get information out of him, you drag the unconscious man into the room and do your best to patch him up with what little light shines in through the window. As you check for wounds, you open his shirt collar and gasp.

Meanwhile, the fight has died down, and having used up their ammunition, the navy retreats. You look up as the door opens to see the captain whip out his pistol and point it at the man on his bed, a frightening look on his face.

“Move away from him.”

“Brother, seriously? He’s unconscious!” The captain looks down at you, clearly unimpressed with your plea.

“Why did you bring him here?”

You take a deep breath before tugging anxiously at your collar, a now familiar movement your observant brother always noticed but never pointed out.

“He… he might be my soulmate.”

Moving slowly, you carefully show him the mark on the still unconscious man’s chest. A perfect circle, too large to be a freckle and too clean to be a scar.

“But he’s a man… and it hasn’t changed color,” your brother states, clearly skeptical. You know he’s probably right – it could just be a tattoo for all you knew, coincidentally in the same spot as your mark. Even though the tales of soulmates and their color-changing marks had reached your ears, the chances of them actually existing felt a bit too romanticized for most people. You had heard stories of people even getting tattoos to scam others into believing they were soulmates, then disappearing like the morning mist with all their belongings. In addition, same-sex soulmates were still stigmatized and regarded as unequal by the general public.

You know your brother doesn’t mean to hurt you, but he doesn’t put much stock in the concept of soulmates, not after what had happened with your parents to leave you both to your own means. But to you, there is something about the impossibility of it all, the slightest chance that maybe, somehow, there is someone out there who you were meant to meet, who wanted to meet you.

And here was someone with a mark that was not just the same shape, but also in the exact same place as yours. You haven’t heard of that before, and the tantalizing promise of what it could mean makes your throat constrict as you watch his chest slowly rise and fall. 

A few hours later, the man stirs, sitting up slowly while clutching his head.

“W-Where am I? Who are you?” You feel like his low voice punched you in the gut, but you make an effort to look unaffected.

“You were hurt pretty badly. Are you feeling alright now?”

He whips his head around to look at you, eyes wide in the candlelight.

“Y-You -!”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to connect the dots, as you watch his mark turn olive-green in front of you. For some reason, the sight has your eyes turning blurry and he scrambles for a handkerchief that he cannot find before offering you his sleeve. You choke out a laugh, feeling oddly emotional as you wonder why you feel so comfortable around this stranger. Maybe this is a part of what it means to be soulmates.

He looks at you with quiet awe, and you nod when he reaches out to touch your mark. His fingers delicately brush against your collarbone. You try not to flinch but your burning cheeks give you away, and he offers you a soft smile.

From then on, the two of you are often seen together around the ship, from cleaning the decks and cataloging bandages to talking over meals and stargazing at night from the crow’s nest. At first your brother was shocked that you appeared to be soulmates, but he told you privately that soulmates be darned, if the man did not treat you right, he would kick him off the plank himself.

Thankfully it never comes to that. Your soulmate is surprisingly romantic, and while you are a pirate and he is in the navy, he admits that he wants to at least spend some time getting to know you before just returning to his crewmates. So he stays, recovering from his injuries as well as you could have wished for. 

He makes fast friends with the crew despite some initial trepidation, as he is skilled with a sword and handy with the ropes. You feel yourself falling harder for him as you watch him teach one of the younger men how to assume a good form for swordsmanship. Your brother sees the tender look in your eyes, and at this point, he knows he is powerless to stop the two of you.

One night, the two of you are in charge of lookout, and you take turns looking through the telescope. After a few minutes, your usual discussion about constellations peters out, and for a while the silence weighs heavy, pressing down on your chest until you aren’t sure what to say anymore. Just when you decide that you have to say something, he turns towards you.

“I’m sorry.”

You blink, grasping for words, but nothing comes. He looks up at the stars again, a pensive look on his face before he continues, choosing his words carefully.

“I lived with purpose. My mother passed away when I was five, and I never knew my father. A naval officer who was a family friend took me in, and I grew up wanting to join him. The people I met in the navy became my new family, and I didn’t look back. And then I met you.”

He glances at you, then averts his eyes away towards the horizon. Suddenly he feels very far away, despite being within a hand’s reach. Did his shoulders always look so lonely?

“I know I’ve been very lucky to meet you. Mark or not, I think it was important that we met. But I can’t leave the rest of my life behind, the people who chose me for who I was and welcomed me when I had nothing to give. I know this is very unfair to you, and all I can do is ask for your forgiveness.”

He turns around, eyes downcast, and kneels down in front of you.

“You can hit me as hard as you like.”

Your lip feels like it might bleed with how tightly you’ve bitten down, trying to prevent any hint of sound from escaping you. Wordlessly, you collapse onto your knees, finally surrendering as you clutch your face in your hands.

“H-how could I?” You choke out, the words damp and raw in your burning throat. Neither of you manage to utter anything else until the sun dyes the sky pink and orange again.

Two days later, the ship is entangled in another skirmish with the navy. This time, however, you barely get enough time to take cover before the ship is boarded. It takes you a few seconds to realize your mistake - he is still out there, dressed in clothes he borrowed from your brother. Just as you scramble to the window, your worst fears are realized.

Without a second thought, you fling open the cabin door and run towards his slumped form, brandishing your hand pistol. You manage to dodge around two men, but just as you are about to reach him, you see his eyes widen. All you make out is his mouth moving and a short scream as something slams into your ribcage with a sickening thud.

You crumple onto the deck, hand outstretched in mid-reach. Coughing wetly, you feel your body being turned over. As your eyelids grow heavy, you manage to look up and see his face, worried but beautiful in the silver moonlight. How ironic, that fate would have you bleed out in his arms.

“I’m sorry.”


	10. mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> every mountain has its secrets.

It was a decent night, the tables mostly filled and a few people seated at the bar. You were off for today, Rodger rolling up his sleeves to offer the customers his extensive jazz repertoire. With a quick glance across the room, you figured you would be able to spend a few quiet hours in the library by yourself.

Despite your financial limitations growing up, you loved to paint. It started out as little scribbles and sketches on the backs of flyers and receipts, but once you got to try your neighbor’s watercolor set, you were never the same.

While the library didn’t have a paint set, it did have a lovely window seat with a view of the neighborhood rooftops. Quickly grabbing a pencil and your sketchbook from your room, you hurried towards the promise of peace and contemplation.

More of a small office than a library despite its name, the room was empty as you stepped in and softly shut the door behind you. It was only your second time in here, and the ambiance of the space still quietly impressed you.

Filled with various books, paintings, and sketches, it almost looked like the study of an explorer. As you headed towards the window seat, your eye was drawn again to the ship in a bottle inside a side cabinet. You had never seen the ocean in real life before, but you were always fascinated by the stories of the travelers who passed through the restaurant, especially those who had experienced firsthand the fury of a storm at sea and the peace that comes after.

Sitting down, you idly flipped through your sketchbook. Some of these were just character sketches of people you saw when you were people-watching in the restaurant. Others were small scenes you noticed around you from time to time: the cat perched on the neighbor’s brick wall licking her front paw, the way the sunshine reflected off of the bell hanging from the front door of Cafe Sunset when someone walked in. 

But the ones that catch your eye are the ones that came to you unbidden, mid-reverie or within a dream. A pair of leather-strapped sandals that you’re sure you’ve never seen in a store. An orchard of peach trees. Coils of rope on a ship. A smiling girl but you can’t visualize her face so you only drew her dress, simple and light.

Just as you are about to settle into a fresh new page, you hear a door slam shut downstairs. A bit unusual for this time of night, but you don’t think much of it until you hear heavy footsteps and the library door swings open.

“Wh- S-Sui? What happened to you?”

The doorframe reveals Sui in an unusual stance, practically curled into himself, hand pressed to his right arm. Was he limping?

Before he can protest, you tug him by his sleeve into the library.

“Where’s your first aid kit?”

You hurry to pull it out of the cabinet he indicates with his chin - seems like everything and anything really could be found in the library - and sit down on the lone couch next to him.

“It’s alright, I can patch myself up.”

You level a firm look at him. The red splotch on his upper right sleeve is slowly spreading.

“You had better just keep pressure on that arm while I get out some bandages.”

As you fish out a roll of gauze and some dressing, you feel his eyes follow your every move.

“Have you done this often?”

You turn to him and offer what you hope is a reassuring smile.

“I’m pretty decent at first aid, if that’s what you’re worried about. Now show me your arm.”

Sui struggles to roll up his sleeve, and if you weren’t so concerned about his wound, the sight would almost be comical.

“It would probably be better to just take off the jacket, you know.”

You swear you see a hint of embarrassment twinge his lips as he moves to shrug his outer layer off, revealing a white shirt and a bigger bloodstain than you had expected.

“...You’re going to have to take that off too, unless you want me to cut the sleeve off.”

“Go ahead.”

You startle at his low voice, steady and calm.

“H-huh?”

He gestures with his other hand towards his shoulder, miming a pair of scissors.

“Just cut off the sleeve, it’s fine. I have a lot of shirts.”

You feel hesitant, but you don’t want to argue any longer when his arm is bleeding like that.

“Alright… but seriously, what happened?”

Sui huffs quietly, looking away as you take a pair of scissors to his sleeve, the fabric quietly falling to the side.

“Just the usual business. You know what we do.”

Pausing, you give him your best unimpressed look. To his own credit, he turns and apologizes for excluding you, but refuses to disclose anything else.

“The less you know, the better.”

Rummaging through the first-aid kit, you clean up the area around the wound. It looks like whatever it was would leave a scar on his arm, but hopefully nothing more. You don’t dwell on what the cause might have been.

“I don’t have to know anything, but I can at least help patch up people. That’s fine, right?”

You look at him pleadingly. Even though you were already working, it felt wrong somehow to just sit back and do nothing to help while the people around you were struggling.

However, Sui’s expression grows stony at your request.

“No. If anyone asks, you have no idea what we do or who we are. You just work here as a singer, nothing more and nothing less.”

You patch up his leg in silence. The bullet makes you hesitate for a moment, but you don’t want him to think you can’t handle one, so you tug it out as gently as you can. Sui doesn’t make a sound throughout the whole process.

As you fasten the end of the bandage, he ruffles your hair. You look up with unconcealed surprise but he does not meet your gaze.

“Sorry about snapping at you. Please understand, for my sake if anything.”

Sui finally turns to look at you with an apologetic smile, before getting up off the couch, gathering his discarded jacket and sleeve in his other arm.

“Thanks for today. Don’t stay up too late, alright?”

With a wave, Sui walks out of the library, only the slightest waver in his gait. As you watch him leave, the firm strength that emanates from his receding form makes you almost forget he was injured in the first place.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to you that he’s probably been through worse, considering his occupation. But you still struggle to picture that friendly face amid vicious gunfire, despite the obvious implications of his injuries.

For all the familiarity you feel with Sui and his “old soul” as the others nicknamed him, sometimes it feels like he is very far away and you don’t know how to reach him.


	11. clandestine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sui knows his onions.

After that night in the library, you see less and less of Sui. Not that he disappears; rather he seems busier than ever. Every time you catch sight of him, the next moment he is gone. 

As the days and nights run on, you gradually get a sense that there is something going on bigger than you can truly grasp. There is an underlying current of worry and anticipation that seems to flow through everyone with a nervous energy.

You don’t realize how much it has been gnawing at the back of your mind until you mess up your third shipment in the past hour and the box clatters to the floor, glancing sharply against your hand in the process.

Wincing, you exclaim involuntarily as you rub your sore fingers.

“Are you alright? You really should take a break.”

With a frown, Rafter gently guides you by the shoulders to the side bench and urges you to sit down.

“Drink some water and calm down. You haven’t been right all afternoon, take some time to relax, ok?”

Placing a cup in your hands, Rafter nods in satisfaction when you take a good sip before returning to his work. 

As you watch him dexterously tie knot after knot, your mind wanders to open waters and salty breezes until you hear him clear his throat.

“So… what’s on your mind?” Perhaps embarrassed, Rafter doesn’t turn around but continues to work as he talks.

“I’m just an old man, but I can hear you out. Whatever you want to say, even if it’s about the boss, I’ll listen. Or you can just pretend I’m not here.”

You chuckle at his awkward but warm consideration.

“Thanks, Rafter. I guess I’m just anxious because everyone else seems nervous, you know? It feels like something is looming on the horizon, and we’re preparing for it but I have no idea what it is.”

Rafter grunts sympathetically.

“It’s those young’uns, I tell you. Always on a toot or something other. Simon and Edwin were blathering again, weren’t they?”

You laugh at his gruff tone - just yesterday, you saw him leave his portion of dessert in the fridge for Simon and his sweet tooth. And everyone knew that Rafter was the only one who kept Edwin from talking until he dropped.

“They’re fine - actually, they haven’t told me anything. To be honest, that makes me more nervous.”

At your words, Rafter lets out a quiet sigh and tugs at a knot absently before turning to smile at you.

“You needn't worry about us, lass. Just keep on smiling and singing with that lovely voice of yours, it lifts our spirits like no other.”

Despite Rafter’s kind words, the state of not knowing continues to nag at you. But when you talk to Tiller, he tells you just about the same thing with a hearty laugh.

“Sui knows his onions, don’t you worry. Now come here and try my latest creation! It’s fresh out of the oven and I want your honest opinion.”

Edwin is the resident smooth talker and Simon won’t speak a word if you try to pry anything out of him, so you skip over those two. That leaves Rodger, your fellow musician, and Quin, the most secretive one.

As the pianist, Rodger didn’t know much more than you. All he could tell you was if things went south, Sui would let everyone know what to do.

“He’s been in this business for a while. And it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to call the cops on us.”

You know Rodger is probably right - after all, he’s been with the group longer than you have. But now one last question remains in your mind.

“Where do you think I can find Quin?”

It turns out that Quin practically inhabits a room upstairs and doesn’t come out except for the occasional Tiller special. Since you arrived, you’ve only caught a few glimpses of the slender man. Maybe this would be your chance to finally get to know the most reclusive member of this group.

“Pardon, is Quin in here?” You knock on the door as politely as you can.

“... Who is it?”

The cool voice that calls out does not instill you with much hope, but you press on anyway.

“I just wanted to ask you a quick question.”

A few moments pass in silence, and you are about to turn away, discouraged, when you hear a faint shuffling. The door opens a sliver, and you finally come to face to face with Quin.

“What is it?”

Not wanting to wither under his gaze, you straighten your back and ask what has been bothering you.

“Why is everyone so nervous?”

You see his eye twitch, and he glances up and down the hallway before pulling you into the room.

“Quiet. Not a word I tell you leaves this room, understood?”

Breath stuck in your throat, you nod as you gaze awestruck at the crowded, incomprehensible space that is Quin’s room. Nearly every surface is covered with tools and various materials you’re not sure you could name.

Scratching his head with a pensive look, Quin tugs a stool out of a corner and places it by the corner of his work table.

“Sit, don’t touch anything on the table. And start from the beginning.”

You go over the past few days, the various behaviors and conversations that have contributed to your rising sense of concern. Quin works on something as he listens, fiddling with a screwdriver but nodding as you continue talking. When you finish, he puts his work on the table and turns to you with a piercing gaze.

“Sui didn’t want me to tell you, but I think it’s time you knew. Remember, if anyone asks, I didn’t tell you anything.”

A sense of deja-vu washes over you but you wordlessly nod in agreement. If Quin was going to explain the situation, you weren’t about to ruin your chances. As you lean closer, he turns back to his table and continues working as he speaks softly.

“Our family, as some call it, is not the only one with power around here. And for a long time, the Zvengli have not been on the best of terms with us. Recently, they took over the nearby Alberg group. They claim it was peaceful, but rumor has it that some Alberg members have gone missing.”

He glances at you, and you nod twice to indicate that you are listening. Satisfied, he returns his gaze to his task.

“With recent events, this district has become restless. There will probably be a confrontation with Zvengli at some point in the near future as power dynamics shift. Not necessarily violent, but you never know.”

Quin quickly blows some air onto the item in his hands, dusting it off before handing it to you.

“Of course you should hide or run if something happens, but in the case that you can’t, you should have something to buy you time.”

The small, smooth cylinder fits snugly in your palm, a small loop of metal protruding from one end.

“When you need to escape, just pull out the loop completely and throw the base at whoever’s chasing you. No matter what, don’t look back when you do.”

Nodding in understanding, you swallow thickly as you thank him for the gift.

“Don’t show that to anyone, or Sui’ll have my head.”

With a firm look, Quin nods at you before turning back to his table. But before you leave, you can’t help but ask one more question.

“Why are you helping me?”

Quin snorts quietly before meeting your perplexed gaze.

“Sui brought you in. You’re a greater help alive than dead, no?”

You can’t deny that statement.

“Thanks, Quin.”

He waves you off, seemingly embarrassed at your repeated expressions of gratitude.

“Just keep quiet and be careful.”

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this time period, to "know your onions" meant to know what was going on.
> 
> So... do you know your onions?


	12. between the lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> perhaps in another place, another time...

“Just a moment, I’ll be right with you!” A harried man calls from behind the counter. At the chime of bells, the girl at the till turns around to see a familiar face and breaks into a grin at her friend’s warm greeting.

“Annette! I just wanted to stop by, since I was out for a walk anyway! I have a request, master tailor!”

The well-dressed lady laughs gaily as the now-emerged tailor adjusts his clothes and gives her a small bow.

“How can I assist you today, miss Silvette?”

“You are the best, mister Richard, and I need your guidance for a new gown to make my upcoming social debut.”

Richard gets that glint in his eye that means he has a bolt of inspiration and nothing will get in his way before he finishes with it.

“Say no more! Annette, handle ringing up the last customer, will you? We’ll be closed after her.”

As the last customer leaves, Annette switches the OPEN sign to CLOSED on the door and cleans up the floor. When she finally makes it to the back, she finds the two bent over a piece of paper at Richard’s workbench.

Knowing that Richard takes his time when it comes to design, Annette uses the opportunity to brew miss Silvette’s favorite tea and set a cup by her side.

“Thank you, Annette!” She smiles as she takes a sip, and Richard makes a few mumbles and pencil marks before leaning back.

“Is this what we are settled on then, miss Silvette?” Annette peeks over her shoulder as she examines the drawing. Even as a sketch, the dress looks like a dream - she knows it will be stunning on the noble lady and her beautiful blonde hair.

She seems to be pleased as well. “This looks incredible, mister Richard. My dress is in your hands, then!”

With a firm handshake, the two rise from their seats. “Annette will be in charge of your fittings, as usual.”

“I look forward to the finished product!”

With a smile and a wave, miss Silvette leaves, her ever-present escort appearing at the door to take her home.

A few days later, Annette arrives at the Silvette manor for the first fitting.

“The tailor is quick as ever,” miss Silvette giggles as Annette is ushered into the drawing room.

For some privacy, the two move to a guest room with more mirrors. As Annette moves about, slipping pins into the mock-up fabric for a better fit, they chatter about the upcoming social event.

“Oh Annette, I’ve been practicing my dancing but I’m worried I won’t fit in - what if I trip and make a fool of myself?”

“Miss Silvette-”

“What did I say about my name?”

“... Mary, it’s going to be alright.” The noble daughter looks pleased at the different form of address.

“When we’re by ourselves, please just call me Mary. I can’t stand all the social formalities anyway. We are friends, aren’t we?”

Annette can’t help but laugh. Despite her proper appearance and social class, Mary is also just a girl, not much younger than her. It makes sense that she would be nervous about her debut into high society. Even knowing Mary for just over a year, Annette knows that her parents likely have many expectations about the suitors and connections that Mary will encounter at this event.

“I’m no expert, but I could practice dancing with you if you like. Perhaps it would ease your nerves.”

Mary giggles at the offer. “But you’d have to dance the man’s part!”

Straightening her back, Annette smiles, unruffled. “I’ll learn it from Richard!”

When she later asks the tailor, he laughs dryly and gestures towards the shop across the street.

“You’d have a better chance learning it from someone else. How about the florist boy next door?”

And so, in between fittings at Mary’s house, Annette gets dancing lessons from the florist boy and things seem to be going well. But one day during a fitting, Mary seems a bit sour and will not look Annette in the face.

“Have I done anything to offend you, Mary? If so, I apologize. Please tell me.”

At first, Mary’s gaze darts about the room silently. After a few moments and another pin slipped into place, she finally relents.

“You seemed to be having a good time, dancing with the florist boy.”

Annette laughs and sets down her tape measure. “I was just learning the man’s dancing part so I could help you.”

Mary looks away, face hot with embarrassment. “Want to see what I’ve learned?”

After a quick fitting - there wasn’t much to adjust now - the two practice dancing in the quiet room, their silhouettes reflected in the many mirrors around them. The image is strange to Annette, always on the side, never the main character in the mirror where customers stand to examine their new garments. But in this moment, both Annette and Mary shine in the sparkly glass reflection, skirts swishing as they twirl.

Just as Annette is lost in thought, Mary almost trips over her skirt. When Annette reaches out to catch her, there is a brief moment when their faces are mere inches apart. She manages to pull the younger girl upright, but those few seconds continue to run through her mind, the feeling of Mary’s breath on her cheek making her stomach swirl dangerously. She knows she can’t have these emotions, regardless of what they are, and steels herself to regain her composure.

“I think we should end our practice for now, Mary.”

Annette glances at her, but the girl evades her gaze, the tips of her ears pink as she gazes at the clock on the wall.

“Ah, you’re right, look at the time! I don’t want to make you late and have Richard scold you.”

Time slips through her fingers, and the next thing Annette knows, it is the day of the social event. It has been the talk of the town for quite a while, and it is no surprise that the ladies who come by the store have their fair share of gossip. But she waits.

A few days later, Mary finally stops by the shop with news and thanks both of them for the lovely dress.

“What did you think of the dances? The people?” Annette tries to not sound too anxious.

“Did you meet anyone interesting?” Richard is obviously curious, despite his best efforts.

Wringing her skirt between her hands, Mary admits that there were charming people, but no one she felt prepared to think of as a potential suitor.

A season passes like this, and not much changes. Mary has expressed no interest, and still stops by the shop fairly regularly. But now Mary freely invites Annette over to her house to visit as a good friend for afternoon tea. It was a little awkward at first, but at this point the manor staff know who Annette is and let her in without much problem.

One such day, over another private tea chat, Mary confides that her parents grow ever more impatient for her to name someone that she would be interested in. Annette bites her lip, feels the ugly emotion of jealousy stir in her gut, but knows she cannot say anything, cannot do anything for her.

Mary collapses into quiet tears on the sofa and Annette holds her close, silently rubbing her back until she calms down. Just as Annette wonders if she has fallen asleep, the rise and fall of her chest now shallow, a quiet whisper pierces the somber silence.

“Why did we both have to be women?”

Annette must have looked shocked, because Mary continues in a choked voice.

“Don’t tell me you don’t care? Have you never noticed?”

She tugs at the neckline of her dress to reveal a perfect, olive-green circle imprinted on her skin. Annette involuntarily freezes - it feels like she’s been slapped in the face.

“Ann… I’m scared. How could I marry someone else and live as their wife? What if they find out about us and don’t let me see you anymore?”

Heart stuck in her throat, Annette grips her hands and pulls Mary into a hug, at a loss for words. She has always been well aware of her social position and its limitations, but now more than ever, she feels disgustingly helpless. There is nothing she could say to change the situation, no power she has over their lives even with their marks. All she can do is apologize and hold her heart close.

“Should we just run away together?” Annette almost jolts at Mary’s half-desperate murmur, but knows the two of them were just grasping at straws. 

“I would never be able to live with myself if I was the reason you never saw your family again.”

“...Sorry.”

Mary looks up at her apologetically, eyes watery.

“It’s alright. I know.”

Annette strokes her hair soothingly as Mary buries her face in her shoulder.

Meanwhile, the rain has started pounding heavily against the windows, the skies dark with clouds.

“You should stay for the night, the weather’s too dangerous.”

Hearing the crash of thunder, Annette relents. Traveling now would be rationally unwise. Mary insists that it will be fine for her to stay in her bedroom, and quietly tells the servants to not set up the guestroom. The two end up falling asleep in each other’s arms, lulled into dreams by the softening rain.

A year later, Annette is sitting in the back of a church. Bells chime, flower petals swirl, and the bride everyone has been waiting for walks in. The dress she helped make floats about the bride like a romantic dream, and as Annette watches her join hands with the groom, she half-wishes it was all just a figment of her imagination. 

Would it have been easier if she had never seen that mark, if they had never met? Annette can’t bring herself to answer either question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic hopefully makes more sense as it continues. I'm curious what you think - too mysterious? Confusing? Or are you having fun picking up clues?


	13. in shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then you appeared, as sudden as snow in spring.

“And to you I’ll be true, so don’t look so blue!”

A shake of the tambourine and you are crooning to the crowd that can’t get enough of tonight’s setlist. You really were a perfect addition to the small jazz ensemble he had gathered. A stroke of luck, but not one he wanted to rely on. He was a businessman, not a gambler. 

As the music shifts into a slightly more relaxed tempo, Sui takes a sip from his glass. No alcohol for him - unwise to blunt his senses - but watching the crowd enjoy themselves makes him relax a fraction. Tapping out the melodic rhythm on the wooden bar, Sui begins to reminisce about the first time he learned about you.

From a young age, Sui often had vivid, repetitive dreams. Most he forgot the moment he woke up, but as he got older, he began to remember more and more. Still, dreams were just dreams, detached from conscious reality - until one night, when he came face to face with a ghost.

“I’m not a ghost, I’m you from a past life!” it would protest. Sometimes the voice was childlike, other times the voice was that of an adult. But every time, the voice asked him to find his “partner,” its longing practically palpable in the request.

“How am I supposed to find my so-called partner when I have no clues to go on?” He always asked, but to no avail. Not to mention that he didn’t have the luxury to go exploring and look for someone. Joining the mafia at his age meant he had no choice but to conform and obey or risk being shot and left for dead, which probably wouldn’t be very different from his fate had he not joined. Still, the capo was level-headed, and he hadn’t heard anything too crazy about the boss - in mafia terms, at least.

Despite all this, there was a part of Sui deep inside that examined every nugget of information he obtained and wondered if it could lead him to his partner. Regardless of past lives, soulmates, or destiny, Sui just wanted to know what kind of person was so important that the universe thought they were right for him, who would turn the mark that graced his collarbone olive-green like it had so many times before. 

But years passed without a shred of promise, and eventually Sui rose in the ranks to lead his own group of men. Busy trying to navigate the complex mafia politics of the city, he nearly forgot about his youthful dreams.

Then you appeared, as sudden as snow in spring. As soon as his eyes landed on you, he knew. Your beautiful voice pierced his chest, and he could feel his heart sink. You were the one who haunted his dreams, who he had fallen for again and again and again. But he could not envision this lifetime being any happier than the others. No matter how destined you might be, being his lover now would just be putting a target on your back.

Sui compromises and decides he will do his best to protect you otherwise. As long as he did not love you, that would be enough, wouldn’t it? Seeing the joy in your face when you see the cafe already fills him with a small joy, but when he listens to you sing your heart out in the Studio, he feels both happy and guilty at once, watching your bright smile in the warm lamplight.

Yet there is still so much he does not know about you. Regardless of your long history, he does not know your present self. It is clear you have your fair share of baggage: the first few weeks he knows you, he sometimes notices a somber shadow pass over your face when you think no one is looking. At times it is when a certain song starts playing, other moments you just stare into the distance until someone calls your name.

Sui doesn’t really know what to do about it. He understands better than anyone that memories don’t just disappear overnight. Time helps mend these troubles, but until then, he does his best to make you feel welcome. You seem to enjoy the tea that he keeps, so he orders extra for you. 

These stolen peaceful moments, when he can just sit with you and talk about cats one moment then the cost of sugar the next, he could not imagine trading for the world. When you mention your enjoyment of painting in passing, he asks Simon where he could procure a set of oil paints. Simon looks at him oddly, but he’s known Sui long enough to know that even the most random of requests has a good reason behind it.

Then things start to unravel, and Sui finds himself darting from diplomatic meeting to meeting as the situation in the district becomes more and more inflamed. The Zvengli have become more aggressive ever since their leadership had some shuffling. As one of the smaller groups in the area, the Alberg were clearly seen as the easiest pickings. Sui had made sure to keep The Studio humble in its reputation and earnings to avoid unwanted attention, but he knows that the current peace will not last long.

The following negotiation meeting with the local mafia groups results in a “minor” scuffle that leaves him with a bullet in his leg and Edwin with a scar running down the side of his neck. It is clear that the Zvengli mean business, and as neighborhood tensions rise, Sui wonders if he will be able to preserve the fragile peace that envelops the building he and his companions call home.


	14. latency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hopes you will always think of him that way.

Another meeting ends with no satisfying conclusion, and Sui is almost at the end of his rope. Heaving a sigh, he adjusts his tie as he enters Cafe Sunset. As he walks in, bell chiming behind him, Sui notices that the storefront looks more lively and bright than before.

“Hey boss, you’re just in time! There’s a set of donuts ready to come out!” Tiller’s cheery voice echoes from the kitchen. A few moments later, the pastry chef pops out into the doorway, arms laden with a tray of glazed treats.

“Ah, she went over to the florist this morning, said she wanted to decorate the place!” Naturally resolving Sui’s unspoken curiosity, Tiller motions to the various plants that fill the cozy space as he places the donuts carefully in their display case.

“She said those are for courage, the ones in that vase are for good fortune, and the ones by the door mean joy and happiness. Very sweet, don’t you think?”

Sui admires the vibrant blooms as he gladly partakes in a fresh donut, wondering why their warm message only worsens the ache in his chest.

After thanking Tiller for the sweet treat, Sui heads upstairs to discuss recent events with Simon. He eventually finds the sandy-haired informer in the first floor shipment room chatting with Rafter.

“Boss, you smell sweet! Don’t tell me Tiller just finished a batch!”

Sui laughs at the sight of the dessert-lover sniffing the air and shakes his head. 

“Simon, your keen nose never fails to astound me. He’s already set out the first batch, you’ll have to wait another hour.”

“Nooooo!!” Simon pouts, shaking his fist in the air as if it is the most unjust thing he has ever heard. Snorting, Rafter bops him on the head.

“You need to watch your sweet tooth, boy, or you’ll end up like me.”

“I won’t ever be caught wearing overalls, don’t worry about me, old man.”

“Old man?! You -”

Sui intercedes before the two go off into one of their never-ending bickering matches.

“What were you two talking about before? I heard something about patching?”

Rafter brightens at the reminder, tugging at the front pocket of his overalls.

“I’ve been getting real torn up lately, so she’s been patching me up! Does a darn good job of it, too!”

Sui blinks in confusion for a second before realizing that Rafter’s front pocket has been embellished with a cute red cherry.

“She did mine too, after I got my shirt caught on a nail. Never expected her to pick an oyster, though.”

The oblong white and gray embroidery on Simon’s shoulder is oddly appropriate for its owner full of surprises, and Sui barely stifles a chuckle. It seems you had gotten to know the group fairly well already.

“I wonder what the boss would get?”

“Maybe a butterfly?”

“Some kind of bird, maybe?”

Their casual guesses pique Sui’s curiosity. “Why the flying?”

Simon shrugs. “You’re a man of transformation.”

“And you’re always flying to people’s aid,” Rafter adds. “Mostly Edwin’s, though.”

The three chuckle at Edwin’s infamous affinity for trouble. As Simon recalls the time Edwin smashed a hole in the anteroom wall with his rear end, Sui wonders what you would embroider for him.

A few days later, after several hours of discussion, negotiations finally go through with a local group to form an alliance. Filled with a sense of relief, Sui tries not to relax too much as he returns to The Studio. It’s a quiet night - he had the speakeasy closed in case negotiations went south.

Wanting to collect his thoughts, he goes to the library for a moment of quiet and contemplation. But when he opens the door, he finds you curled up in the window seat, blanket draped over your legs. 

You startle at his entrance and move to get up, but he motions for you to stay where you are. Letting out a quiet breath, Sui loosens his tie and sinks into the nearby sofa in weary relief.

“What were you up to?”

“Just watching the stars.”

For a long while, the room is filled with moonlight and the quiet sound of your breaths as you both sink into deep thought.

Then a spark of light, a pop, and the two of you are pulled out of reverie by a sudden shower of shooting stars.

“Quick, make a wish!” 

You beckon him closer urgently, patting the other end of the window seat. As he joins you, you turn your face upwards to the night sky, close your eyes, and clasp your hands together as if in prayer. 

Sui sits down and folds his hands together in his lap, awestruck by the extraordinary display of light. He isn’t superstitious, but if the stars are listening, he quietly wishes for the strength to protect everyone he loves.

When the star shower concludes, you turn to him, a teasing glint in your eyes.

“What did you wish for?”

Sui chuckles. “If I told you, wouldn’t that nullify the wish?”

“Hmm… I see you are well-versed in the rules.”

You huff, but he can see the edge of your lips hinting at a smile.

“Would you tell me what your wish was?”

“No… but I can give you something else.”

You fumble around in the bag you have at your feet, tug something out, and place it in his hands.

“I just wanted to give you something in thanks for letting me stay here and work with everyone. It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

The gift is soft against his skin. He tugs at a corner, and the fabric unfolds gracefully into a dark navy blue handkerchief with purple hydrangeas subtly worked into the borders. As he runs the pads of his thumbs along the stitching, he wonders how long it took you to make the detailed leaves that spell out his name in the bottom corner.

“It’s beautiful, thank you. Your embroidery is always lovely. I’ll be sure to use it often.”

Sui tucks it into his suit breast pocket, and it is as if your handkerchief was made for it, the colors harmonizing naturally. As he admires its reflection in the window, you lean back against the side of the window seat before asking him a question that sends him into an internal panic.

“Sui, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“... Why did you help me that day?”

How was he supposed to answer? Even if he wanted to spill it all out before you, tell you about your shared sunsets and secret dances, blueberry-stained kisses and repeated heartbreak - how could he? You would probably think he had lost his mind.

So he settles for the easiest answer that skims the surface of the truth. “Your voice drew me in, and you seemed a nice person who would get along with us here.”

You hum and smile, and Sui has to remind himself to smile back. “Lady Luck must have favored me that night, for me to meet such a wonderful group of people.”

You look back out the window, a strand of hair falling across your forehead. Sui almost reaches out to tuck it away, barely manages to stop himself in time before you brush the hair away yourself. 

Suddenly the window seat feels much too small, and he knows he has to excuse himself before he forgets his vow.

“By the way, why did you choose hydrangeas?”

Sui can’t help but ask, the curiosity nagging at him. You glance at him for a quiet moment, a hint of embarrassment twisting your lips, before finally responding.

“Because you always make me feel understood. You’re a warm person, Sui.”

He hopes you will always think of him that way.


	15. recognition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Five o’clock. Time to get moving.

Sui motions to the others, and as the clock strikes the hour, the four men disappear out the cafe backdoor. Today is going to be an important meeting, one that could decide the future of their group. Their new allies, the Regata, had emphasized the importance of bringing some muscle in case the Zvengli tried to intervene in their plans.

This meant Simon, Rodger, and you were left in the cafe. Tiller, of course, was busy with his work and couldn’t leave. Ever cautious, Quin had equipped some security about the place before the four of them left.

“So what’s the plan, boss?”

Rafter elbows Edwin in the ribs, evoking a quiet yelp in response. “Did you forget the debriefing already?”

“I know, they want to land the first punch against the Zvengli. But you aren’t really interested in that, right?”

Sui ruffles Edwin’s hair briefly before facing forward again.

“I’d like to minimize the bloodshed if possible.”

Quin snorts quietly at this, but doesn’t say anything. Sui’s calm fury is rare but terrifying, and Quin is one of the few people to have witnessed it in person. Regardless, everyone in the group knows better than to probe too deeply into it.

“Ah, this was the meeting place, right?”

A nondescript brick-walled building stands before them, a blank door to their right, just outside the range of the single corner street lamp that flickers weakly in the pink-orange sunset.

Upon their approach, the door creaks open as if someone had been observing their approach.

“Come in, we’ve no time to waste.”

Rafter bristles at the brusque voice that emerges from the door, and surprisingly Edwin is the one to calm him down.

“This crowd is pretty snippy with their words.”

Quin eyes the man in sunglasses who now stands by the door.

“I’ll be out here with this one, boss.”

Sui gives him a slight nod in acknowledgement before heading inside, Rafter and Edwin close behind. As they walk in, Edwin suddenly hisses, rubbing his elbow.

“What is it?” Rafter whispers loudly, glancing at his clumsy companion.

“There was a loose nail on the door frame! Ouch… it’s pretty dangerous, they should fix that ASAP!” Edwin whispers back, frowning.

Sui hushes them with a quick look before turning to greet the host of today’s meeting.

“I see you made it.”

The head of the Regata sits at one end of the rectangular table, and gestures towards the open seats. Two men stand at attention behind him.

“Thanks for the invitation. I understand you have a plan of action regarding the Zvengli?”

Sui takes his seat at the other end of the table, Rafter and Edwin sitting down on either side of him. The head of the Regata, Ten, is no stranger to him, and Sui has long ceased being surprised by his aggressive tactics. A surprise raid on the Zvengli is certainly not out of the question for the volatile man.

“I do. But first, there is a little issue we must address.”

Sui raises his eyebrow at Ten. Now things were getting interesting.

“Whoever takes down the Zvengli will almost certainly gain control over this district. While we need to join forces to take them down, it will be dangerous if we end up torn over that control. I suggest that we publicize ourselves afterwards as a single group. That way we do not appear fractured and open for attack as the power balance shifts. What do you say?”

Ten leans back in his seat, apparently satisfied with his own suggestion. Maintaining his steady gaze at the Regata leader, Sui steeples his fingers under his chin in thought. It was almost amusing to see Ten speak so calmly. The fiery teenager he remembered from his old mafia family had always preferred to yell in indignant bursts and speak with his fists. One of his “helpers” standing behind him was undoubtedly the author of tonight’s speech.

“As rational and well-thought out that is -”

Ten leans across the table eagerly at Sui’s words, and Sui can barely hold back a wince at the thought of what is sure to follow.

“It begs the question, which group are we going to publicize ourselves as? It sounds like one group would be on the losing end of this deal.”

Ten’s eyes flash as his toothy grin turns into something dangerous, almost feral. 

“What a silly question. Isn’t it obvious that we’ll be taking charge as the stronger group?”

Before Sui can take another breath, two more men appear behind the three of them, the barrel of a pistol pressing coldly against the back of his head.

“You’ve obviously underestimated us if you think I’m giving up my family that easily.”

Sui moves to disarm the man behind him when Ten laughs frantically and slaps the table with his palms.

“I wouldn’t be so hasty with your decision. After all, we do have something that might make you reconsider. More specifically, a pretty little songbird.”

At the glares of the three seated men, Ten snaps his fingers towards the door. It swings open quickly and a man in a suit, hat low over his face, approaches the table and drops something in front of them.

Before he can truly register what happened, Sui hears his pulse pounding in his ears, his fist clenching in his lap. Rafter and Edwin look at him, alarmed and confused, but he cannot offer them anything, cannot explain the situation when all he can see is red.

Deep crimson red that stains the crumpled light cream-colored fabric in a sickeningly stark contrast, the rosy-sunset fruits that once decorated it now ruddy pomegranates.

Then a familiar voice makes Sui’s heart sink, and Rafter and Edwin nearly leap out of their seats in fury as the sneering man tosses his hat off before them. 

“It’s been a long time, Martel. What a pity that a woman is your undoing.”


	16. the sound of silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let's go home."

“Shut up and stay put.”

Rough hands secure you to a metal chair, the seat freezing against your bound legs. You have no idea where you are, only the cold air to tell you that you are outside. Still, your kidnappers haven’t killed you yet. There must be something they are waiting for.

Your fingernails dig into your palms painfully as you try not to panic. Think, think! What could they want? How could you escape? You no longer had the item Quin gave you - after your captors had grabbed you, you had been blindfolded and gagged, and all your belongings had been taken. It still fills you with fury, your ineptitude during that sudden attack.

Ten men had charged into the cafe, guns out. You couldn’t throw Quin’s cylinder, unable to just leave Tiller and Rodger behind and afraid of hurting them in tandem with your attackers. In the end, the two men were left knocked out cold and you were taken away. As you were moved to another location, the only thing you heard was a warning not to make a sound or risk getting hit.

“He’s here.”

Whispering, then footsteps and the crunching of gravel in the distance. Your body tenses with the rising sense of anticipation around you. Who could possibly want to kidnap you specifically? You get a sinking feeling that whoever has arrived is incredibly dangerous.

Then you hear him.

Sui, shouting your name.

You do your best to shout back, but receive a sharp slap across your face. The back of your head slams against the chair with a thud, and you wince in pain.

Then you hear several whacks, some yelling, the rustling of fabric, and something that sounds like a balloon deflating. The sound of fighting - Sui and the others must have come to rescue you! You feel your heart stick in your throat with relief - until two gunshots pierce the air.

There is a sickening thump, followed by an eerie silence.

After a few long moments, someone loosens your bonds, the ropes quietly slipping down your arms and legs. You cautiously slip out of the chair, and when you are not challenged, tear off your blindfold.

Your eyes immediately lock onto the still, prone body lying in the middle of the abandoned lot. Without a second thought, your feet move towards him in a blur.

Blood is already pooling beneath his body, his eyes fluttering weakly.

“Sui! Sui! Stay with me, don’t close your eyes! Can you hear me?”

You call him frantically, squeeze his arms. After a few moments, his lips part, and you lean closer to hear him.

“I… I’m sorry.”

With a breathy shudder, Sui goes limp, his eyes closed. You freeze for a few moments and shake your head, unable to process the sight before you.

“No, no no, wake up, we just need to get you to a doctor, you’ll be ok! Just hang on, help is coming, you’re going to be fine, please, just stay awake!”

You look around frantically, but not a soul is in sight. Looking down at him, you realize his hand is already starting to feel cold in your grasp. As if in a trance, you continue murmuring that he’s going to be ok, to _please hold on for just a little longer_. But you already know it’s too late, his face steadily losing color.

You want to shake him, to scream at him to get up, to promise that you’ll never mess up an order again and you’ll sing better songs if only he opens his eyes, to yell at him to stop messing with you because it’s not funny, but no matter how desperately you grip his hand, he does not move.

A wet droplet lands on his cheek. Then two droplets, and a shower of rain descends over the two of you. You rest his head in your lap, leaning over him to shield at least his face. But droplets continue to roll down his cheeks, your eyes welling endlessly with desperate tears. Why was he the one lying here, blood seeping into the concrete, instead of you? Why was this happening? Did he die just to save you? Why did this happen to him, of all people?

After a while, you feel a hand on your shoulder and the rain no longer pelting your head. You glance up and see Edwin kneeling beside you, holding an umbrella over the three of you.

But you cannot bring yourself to leave. You didn’t even realize you were so attached to this man. And yet now that Sui is gone, it feels like your heart has been scooped out whole from your chest, leaving an emptiness that cannot be filled. You cannot even begin to imagine how the others must feel, losing someone they were close to for so long.

Hot, bitter tears continue to spill from your eyes, your chest heaving with wretched sobs as you lean over Sui’s body. It feels like your chest will burst with all the words you could not say, all the apologies that you can no longer offer, all the gratitude you cannot give him anymore. Edwin does not stop you, does not comment.

When your cries finally cease, you find yourself unable to stand, legs shaky. Edwin pulls you upright, adjusting the umbrella. As you turn around, you see Rafter, Rodger, and Quin. Edwin nods at them, then turns to you.

“Let’s go home.”

The rain has stopped now, but Edwin keeps the umbrella open above your heads as you walk. When you turn around for a last fleeting glance, you see the slumped shoulders of the three men leaning over Sui’s body. The sight burns itself into your memory.

Even without words, their hunched backs express pain more deeply than any scream could.


	17. in memoriam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In dreams, you see him.

Flowers.

_A handful of bright yellow daffodils after your first night singing in The Studio._

_Purple and blue irises for your first birthday with the group._

_The gentle smiles that bloomed on their faces when you made everyone breakfast._

Throughout our lives, we give and receive them to congratulate, to express gratitude, to show love, or to make amends.

Your first gift of flowers to Sui had been in gratitude.

Now your second gift of flowers is in apology.

The pink gladioluses tremble quietly in your hand as you stand by the matte black casket. Silence weighs heavy over the small gathering as the case is slowly lowered into the ground. 

“Rest in peace, Sui.”

One by one, the men approach the side of the grave and scatter their flowers over the casket. Numb, you add your pink blossoms to the bouquet that now decorates the black surface. It seems impossible that someone so full of life, so important and kind, could suddenly leave like this.

Rodger delivers the main eulogy, his hands the steadiest of everyone. Still, the paper quietly crumples in his too-tight grasp. After reading through the speech, he swallows thickly and motions for the others to continue.

Rafter quietly shares the story of how he met Sui, and how the man was wise beyond his years. His gaze is soft, and he never looks away from the casket as he talks.

Tiller tells everyone how Sui rescued him and inspired him to become a pastry chef. When he gets to his farewell, he falls to his knees, the last words tangling in his throat with tears. You kneel down beside him and hold his shoulders. No one can bear to interrupt him until he finishes.

Edwin closes his eyes and prays for Sui, gives thanks for his great fortune in meeting someone so warm-hearted and accepting. He stares up into the sky as he hopes Sui is resting peacefully, and as he closes his eyes, the heavens open up.

Quin is the quietest of all, kneeling in the grass and apologizing for not doing better. He murmurs something before tossing a handful of dirt into the grave and bowing.

You sing Sui’s favorite song in farewell, the one he always asked you to sing when he was sitting at the bar. You do your best to maintain a smile, but choke on your words half-way through. No one comments on the wet streaks that run down your cheeks, the sky’s sorrow soaking your clothes through.

The remaining dirt is quickly packed into place before the ground becomes too muddy with rain. And just like that, it is all over.

Afterwards, there is a discussion about the future of the group. Everyone agrees that the speakeasy should be shut down. But you want to keep the cafe alive, to remember the man who gave you shelter and listened to you when no one else would. The man who saved your life again and again.

Tiller agrees and says he wants to keep the cafe running. Rafter joins him, saying, “Where else would this old man go?” Quin nods thoughtfully before slipping off to his workshop.

Edwin decides to work at the nearby florist shop, saying that he’s had enough sugar for a lifetime and he needs to fix his diet. Rodger leaves to seek employment as a piano teacher in the next city over. Simon has been missing ever since Sui died, and no one knows heads or tails about where he might be. 

And so, with Tiller and Rafter, the days at the cafe slip by quietly. You return to your job as a waitress and help Tiller balance the account books.

Quin disappears one day and leaves a letter telling you not to worry about the mafia any more and to live your life freely, noting that Sui would have wanted you to be happy. He writes that the other mafia groups won’t bother you anymore, especially since everyone has dispersed and the speakeasy has shut down.

True to his word, you haven’t seen or heard a thing about the mafia nearby since that day. It seems surreal how peaceful the days are now. The occasional summer breeze wafts into the cafe, teasing the wind chime by the window, and a group of sparrows gather on the neighbor’s brick wall to chatter in the mornings. 

But the lively back and forth of Tiller and Edwin about the freshly made pastries no longer echoes through the cafe, and the place feels empty without the melodic tinkering of Rodger as he tries out another new piece on the piano. Some days you catch Tiller burning cookies while staring silently at the oven, and other times you see Rafter asking for the next shipment order before blinking and realizing that he’s elbow-deep in soapy water and dishes.

Nothing feels the same anymore with everyone gone. With Sui gone.

You do your best to not think about it, to move on, to look forward, but it seems impossible when every time the door chimes, your heart leaps for a fraction of a second with the secret hope that it might be him with that soft smile on his face. And every time, you feel like your chest is being torn at bit by bit from fruitless hope.

But in your dreams, you see him, healthy and smiling. He walks up to you, holds you in his arms, and thanks you for being alive. You drink tea together, walk through luscious gardens full of flowers, and watch the sun sink golden-red into the horizon as a breeze rustles through your hair. He seems so alive in these moments, so happy and peaceful.

Then you wake up with a start and remember that he’s gone and you will never be able to apologize, never tell him your feelings. Someone once said that the happiest dreams are actually the worst nightmares because they can never become reality.

Some days you wish you had never realized how much Sui Martel meant to you.

Some days it rains like the skies are weeping.


	18. unraveled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew at that point that he was probably unforgivable.

“Nothing to report.”

“Thank you as always.”

With a quiet sigh, Sui hangs up the phone and leaves the booth, adjusting his hat to avoid any curious stares. Catching sight of the cafe he has frequented the past few days, Sui sits down at a table to order a cup of tea before glancing upwards.

The sky is a clear, vibrant blue, not a single cloud in sight. He wonders if you might be looking up at this same sky too. But he has no right to long for such a connection, not when he was the one who severed it in the first place.

Sui knew what Ten was after. Ever since their early days in the Vetter family, Ten was always raring for a fight, a chance to take Sui down to prove that he was the best in their group. When Sui was first to earn a promotion and first to gather his own group of men, there was no doubt in his mind that Ten would be irritated.

But if he always knew that Ten had a grudge against him, why did he try to work with him?

It wasn’t hard to figure out something was going on when Simon delivered the offer from the Regata. After all, Sui knew what kind of people he had gathered in his group. He didn’t do things by halves, and investigating Simon’s past was no exception.

A former Zvengli pretending to be a new recruit with a foggy past - in short, a likely double agent. And based on Simon’s stilted reaction whenever the word “family” was mentioned - it didn’t take much to connect the dots from there.

But he let it happen and went along with Simon’s suggestion because he knew that Simon would be punished otherwise. Besides, Sui thought it was odd that Ten would make such an offer in the first place. After the dissolution of the Alberg family caused a lot of talk, he suspected that the Zvengli would do their best to make the other smaller groups take each other out.

True to his expectations, Ten wasn’t the greatest actor. But as Sui wondered how Ten would try to threaten him, he realized at a certain point that Simon had been trying to appeal your charms to him and use you as a weakness. And just as he predicted, they threatened him with your life, or rather, death. Admittedly, he hadn’t expected the handkerchief, and for a few chilling moments, he wondered how long it would take to rip your location out of Ten’s mouth.

Still, he already had a plan in place. As he broke free from his captors’ arms and ran towards your bound form, he prayed everything would go smoothly. A click, then two bangs and Sui fell backwards, the red already seeping through his shirt. Thanks to Quin, he didn’t feel a thing besides the slam of his back against the ground.

But as he lay there on the concrete, you cried over him. He had been trying to ward off the Zvengli and the Regata because he knew they were only interested in seeing him dead. But this - he knew at that point that he was probably unforgivable. Every droplet that fell on his cheeks, he wanted to scream, was wasted on someone like him.

He didn’t deserve you, not when this was the only way he could protect you. Maybe this was his addition to the tragic narrative of your souls. Despite his best attempts, he had only succeeded in hurting you again. He should have never gotten involved with you in the first place.

At least that was what he tried to tell himself, that he no longer deserved to be in your life. But as he traveled the world, reinventing himself over and over in new cities, new languages, new crowds, he couldn’t forget. Quin called him every now and then, the only link he allowed himself to that life.

But eventually he finds himself back in that city, the bumpy streets strangely familiar amid the changed buildings that rise above him. It is an odd feeling, living like a ghost, and something compels him to visit the local graveyard.

The grass is still wet with morning dew when he arrives. Keeping his cloak’s hood over his head, he wanders the stone-lined rows until he sees a figure bent over a grave near the edge of the yard. Glancing around, he withdraws into the shadows of nearby trees. As he gets closer, he realizes with a sinking feeling that it’s you. 

As you place a small bouquet of blue forget-me-nots on the grave before you, you kneel down and quietly pour a cup of water over the gray stone marker. Were you still grieving over him?

Just as Sui is about to retreat, someone grabs him by the shoulder. He twists in their hold, slamming his attacker to the ground without a thought. Then he looks down and his eyes widen in shock.

“I-Is someone there?”

He flinches at the sound of your voice. Glancing backwards, he realizes you must have heard the rustling of leaves in the tussle. After a few moments of silence, you seem to convince yourself it must have been an animal and you brush off your skirt before leaving the graveyard.

Just then, the person beneath him hits his leg.

“Let me go already, you-!”


	19. to return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never, as his old mentor always said.

Sui lifts his foot with a start, and his attacker rolls out from beneath him with a huff. He didn’t expect to see him here hiding in the trees, but Sui was starting to get the picture.

“Wha- how- YOU!”

Edwin staggers back in shock, pointing shakily at Sui’s face. Ah, his hood must have fallen off at some point. It’s too late to make excuses at this point though. He’d have to just tell him the truth.

“Sorry, Edwin.”

Unsurprisingly, Edwin is clearly unsatisfied with Sui’s apology, resting a hand on one hip while stabbing Sui’s chest with his other hand.

“You were alive? This? Whole? TIME? And you let us believe you were DEAD?”

Sui winces.

“I’m truly sorry, Edwin... I had to do it.”

Edwin scoffs and glares at him, an uncharacteristic frown furrowing his brow.

“Had to? Do you know what you did? To us? To her?”

The two of them quietly turn to look at the place you had been kneeling earlier. The small bouquet of forget-me-nots rustles slightly in the occasional breeze that wafts through the place.

“I’ve been keeping watch over her when she visits here, to make sure she’s safe. And every time, she places those blue forget-me-nots by your gravestone. As if she’s afraid that you would forget her, or she would forget you.”

After Sui explains the entire situation that led to his decision, Edwin is slightly appeased. But Sui doesn’t have the courage to face you or the others. Years have passed since then, but he is afraid that if he reappears, all his efforts would have been for naught.

And yet, if he really questions himself and stares his fears in the face, Sui knows he is mostly afraid that you will hate him for what he has done. He doesn’t think he could bear hurting you again.

But he can’t tear himself away. Edwin catches him snooping around the city several times. Each time, Sui asks if Edwin would sneak him a treat from the cafe. But each time, Edwin refuses, saying, “Have you seen what’s happened to her? She’s been a mess ever since you died. You can’t keep doing this if you care about her.”

So one day, after much determination, Sui walks into Cafe Sunset, hat low over his face. His hair has been cut short and dyed another color, and he is enveloped in a dark coat. The door bell chimes behind him, and he has to pause for a moment to remind himself that he is only here to make sure the cafe is doing well and the crew is alright.

Then a familiar voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Welcome to Cafe Sunset!”

He can’t look up, can’t make eye contact with you at the till. When had he become such a coward? Sui berates himself silently as he walks to the display case. He must have been out of his mind to think that you might want to see him again.

But when he manages to sneak a glance at you, he is stopped in his tracks. Your eyes scream of fatigue and sleepless nights, and your shoulders seem weighed down by a heavy burden. The guilt overwhelms him, threatens to swallow him whole. For a long moment, Sui does not know what to do.

He scans the display case and sees his favorite donut. As much as he fears being hated by you, he does not want to lie to you any longer. Regardless of how you felt about him or about soulmates, he had robbed you of your right to make that decision. Better late than never, as his old mentor always said.

“One glazed donut, please.”

He points towards the donut in the case and finally looks up at you. But as soon as you hear his voice, your face loses color. When your eyes meet, you gasp and your legs give way to the floor.

Alarmed, Sui swings himself over the counter to make sure you are alright, his hat falling to the floor. His eyes start to scan your form for injury, but before he can reassure himself, you reach out with shaking hands to cup his face.

Your fingers trace his cheekbones, his nose, his chin. He notices the calluses on your hands and feels another pang of guilt in his chest.

“This isn’t another dream, is it? Is it really you, Sui?”

“It’s me.”

Sui wants to search for the right words to say, but you grab his sleeve and bury your face in his shoulder. The two of you hold each other quietly for a few moments, unable to utter a word.

After a while, the two of you retreat to the anteroom to talk. Rafter had found you on the floor and was alarmed for a few seconds before shooing you both away. When you protested, Rafter ruffled your hair, saying, “Take your time. You two have more to talk about than me, I’m sure.”

Seeing the unchanged upholstery, Sui could almost picture those quiet chats over tea, the fireplace gently crackling in the background. He moves to find the kettle, but you tug his sleeve.

“Let’s talk first.”

Sui sinks into the seat across from you, mind whirring. Where to begin? He is about to apologize when you begin to speak.

“Why didn’t you tell me we were soulmates?”

Sui bites the edge of his lip subconsciously. So you had found out.

“I couldn’t put you in that kind of danger. And I didn’t want to force our relationship with a predetermined link.”

“I see…”

You looked down at your clasped hands somberly.

“Wait, how long have you known?”

You look back up at him, eyes still slightly red from earlier.

“Since the night I patched you up.”

That long ago? Sui can’t even begin to imagine how you must have felt when he disappeared.

“Do you know how I felt, crying over your body only to realize that same night that my mark was still green as ever? I thought I had lost my mind, that my mark was broken, that maybe I was wrong all along.”

Sui winces and looks down at his lap, his hands clenched into fists. How could he ever make amends?

“But I kept dreaming about you. About us and the lives before ours.”

How did you -

“... I’m sorry, Sui.”

His head whips up in shock as he stares at you, bewildered.

“What are you sorry for? I should be the one apologizing, I’m the one that ran off.”

You shake your head. 

“You had to disappear because of me, right? And because of that, you had to leave your family. I’m sorry.”

He grasps your hands, brow furrowing. Had you been thinking this way all these years? 

“No, tensions had been getting bad anyway. Knowing those guys, they wouldn’t be satisfied until they saw me dead.”

Sui sighs and releases you, running a hand over his face. 

“I’m sorry. You don’t deserve someone like me, soulmate or not. Not after I lied to you like that.”

You reach out and grasp his other hand in yours.

“Can’t we just call ourselves even? I’m so thankful that you’re alive, that you came back.”

His thoughts dissolve into air at that look in your eyes. Before he can second guess himself, he pulls you into his arms, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies. Please, Sui.”

“Thank you… for waiting. For living. For believing in me.”

Your arms tighten around him. 

“Thank you for returning.”


	20. together

The white curtains above your bed flutter like dove wings, and as the morning sunlight washes over your face, you slip into reverie with a nostalgic smile.

A rush of wind ruffles your hair, and you shield your eyes with a hand. When you lower it, your vision is filled with a field of gold that stretches as far as you can see. You reach down, and your fingers slip smoothly through the glowing meadow of flowers.

The field is interspersed with numerous shadowy figures that shuffle by, their quiet and incomprehensible murmurs floating into your ears in passing. You wander through the meadow aimlessly for a while, unable to find its end or speak with any of the shades that cross your path. As you meander, the sky remains a clear bright blue, but you cannot find the sun anywhere above you.

Then a shadow approaches you and stops in front of you. As it begins to murmur, you expect it to quickly move on as the others have, unable to communicate. But as you watch, its outline begins to waver, like the shimmering of a mirage in a desert. Slowly, the figure begins to gain color until finally, a person robed in olive green stands before you.

Still frozen in place, you frown as you wonder why only their face remains impossible to make out, like a vision that dissipates whenever you try to look at it. Then they extend their arm to you, a golden flower in their hand. Relaxed by the warm feelings of comfort the figure emanates, you find yourself reaching out without any hesitation.

As soon as your fingertips touch, your entire body thrills with a rush of emotions and memories. Tears come unbidden to your eyes.

“Welcome back, love.”

Your fingers intertwine naturally, like vines in a garden.

“Did you wait long?”

A sweet smile you can’t tear your eyes away from.

“Not at all.”


	21. a new beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every end is a new beginning.

Gasping for air, you jolt awake, blanket slipping off the bed as you sit up in alarm.

“Get up already, you’re going to be late for school!”

You glance at your clock and nearly trip over your blanket as you rush towards the bathroom. Quickly splashing your face with water, you try to remember what kind of dream startled you so much. 

Nowadays your mornings started like this, with you rushing about as you tried to recall what seemed so vivid and real just a few moments ago. Sometimes you woke up panicking, like today, and other days you woke up with a wet pillow and an inexplicable sorrow in your chest. But despite your best efforts, these dreams always dissolved in the morning sunlight.

Grabbing a quick bite for breakfast, you wave to your mother and rush out the door. Fortunately, school is in walking distance, so you haven't been caught late yet.

As you rush through the courtyard, your foot catches on a protruding edge of the concrete sidewalk. Feeling yourself fall head first, you fling out a hand when a firm arm catches you around the waist.

Before you can fully register that you didn’t end up face-planting on the concrete, your savior pulls you upright and helps you regain your balance.

“Are you alright?”

A warm voice. Looking up, you meet kind hazel eyes framed by light gray hair. A fellow student, judging by his uniform.

“I- I’m okay, thank you for saving me.”

His lips curve into a mischievous grin as he pats you on the head.

“Hi okay, I’m dad.”

You can’t help it. A loud snort escapes your throat, and you do your best to stifle it with a hand but it’s too late. The abrupt sound seems to bring him to his senses, as the boy before you starts to backpedal, cheeks flushing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean - obviously I’m not your dad - I mean, I’m not anyone’s dad -”

“What should I call you then, not anyone’s dad?”

You can’t help but tease him back, a broad grin stretching across your face. He laughs and scratches the back of his neck a little awkwardly.

“Sugawara. Sugawara Koushi.”

You tell him your name. 

“Nice to meet you, Sugawara-kun.”

A refreshing smile like rain after a heatwave. 

“Nice to meet you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so a new story unfolds... 
> 
> Thank you for enjoying Sui and Y/N’s story! This was labeled as a Sugawara/f!reader with Sui being a previous incarnation/lifetime of Sugawara. Have you felt their similarities? If you liked Sui, please let me know! I’m sure he would be very happy to hear it 😊


End file.
